Beth was a realist. She had to be. She saw the cold determination in his hard face. The wild, passionate interlude in the hall had been exactly what he had said—a punishment for daring to impugn his good character. Which was a joke, because as far as she was concerned he didn’t have one.
‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ she stated, her lips twitching as she sat down on the opposite sofa. She kissed the cat and put him down beside her. ‘Go on, Binkie. You can have another roam around the kitchen before we leave.’ She watched him jump off the sofa.
‘Do you always talk to your cat?’
She tur
ned her cool gaze on Dante, trying to ignore the lingering warmth in the rest of her body that wasn’t being helped by the sight of him in a tailored white shirt and pleated trousers that fitted snugly over his muscular thighs. ‘Not always, but he is one of the few honest males I have met, and he is a great judge of character.’ She glanced down at Binkie, who had walked straight across to Cannavaro with his back arched, fur bristling as though he was about to attack. ‘He certainly recognises your type,’ she said dryly.
‘That cat does not like me.’ Dante stated the obvious, eyeing the hunchbacked animal with equal dislike. He was amazed to see that at the sound of his mistress’s voice the cat turned and looked at Beth, then crossed to rub slowly up against her bare legs before walking out of the door.
She shrugged her shoulders ‘Binkie is a tomcat and you are a strange male invading his territory. His natural instinct is to protect it.’
‘Not that strange. I have known you a long time, Jane.’ He deliberately used her old name, determined to get down to business.
Beth let her eyes rest on him for a moment. He was sitting on her sofa, making himself at home, with his long legs stretched out in casual ease, his black hair falling over his brow. He seemed so supremely sure of himself. To her shame, Beth felt her body responding to his potent masculine appeal and anger resurfaced—almost as much with herself as him.
‘If you think by calling me Jane you can intimidate me, forget it,’ she said bluntly. ‘I am no longer an innocent teenager you can browbeat in the dock.’
A black brow arched sardonically. ‘Innocent! I seem to recall it was the jury’s unanimous opinion that you were one hundred percent guilty.’
‘You mean the opinion you talked them into believing?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ His brow lifted again. There was no sign of conscience on his face.
Beth shook her head dismissively. What was the point in arguing with him? She had lost eighteen months of her life because of Cannavaro and she wasn’t wasting any more. Rising to her feet, she deliberately let her gaze roam over his darkly attractive face, broad shoulders and the glimpse of black body hair revealed by the open-necked shirt before moving it lower over his long body....
He was a supreme physical specimen of masculinity, with the ability to arouse any woman, and her own innate honesty forced her to admit she was no exception. He had been right about the attraction between them. Even now, angry as she was, she could feel the sexual tension shimmering. But it didn’t make him any less of a lying toad in her eyes.
‘My name is Beth. You are in my home uninvited, supposedly because you want to talk, but so far I have heard nothing that I have not heard before. So get on with it. No thanks to you, I do have a life to get on with.’ She deliberately glanced down at her wristwatch and back up to him, her green eyes clashing with his. ‘You have two minutes, then I am leaving.’
‘You are very confident for an ex-con. But will you be so confident when I tell Tony of your past, I wonder?’ he drawled, lounging back against the soft cushions, obviously not about to move. ‘I recognised the type of woman you are the first time I saw you in the dock. You would do anything—even try to destroy a young boy who’s infatuated by you—to save your own skin. Now you have Tony equally infatuated with you and wanting to marry you, for no other reason than just because you can or—more likely—you want him for his wealth.’
That made Beth smile. ‘Not very flattering to your brother, are you? But feel free to tell him. I don’t mind, I don’t think Tony would either. A lot of young men his age consider it really cool to have a girlfriend who has done time in jail.’
His dark eyes watched her penetratingly and she knew she had got to him.
‘You could be right. But, believe me, I do not make idle threats. You will move out of this apartment and leave Tony alone—no contact of any kind—or I will tell your employer exactly who you are: a convicted drug dealer who has spent eighteen months in prison. I’m sure that’s something you probably missed off your CV. Steel and White is a highly respectable firm and will take a dim view of the omission. You will be out of a job—your carefully crafted reputation ruined.’
Beth listened to him with rising anger, realising he must have had her investigated immediately after the barbecue—otherwise he would know she had given in her notice to Steel and White on Monday. She did not know much about men, but she wasn’t a fool. The way Cannavaro had treated her earlier in the hall had surprised and aroused her, but there was no disguising the fact that he had been equally aroused—and she seriously doubted he was doing this just for his brother!
This man had destroyed her once and he was trying to do so again. But he wasn’t quite as clever as he thought. Prison life had taught her to control her body and her temper rigorously, but she could not resist goading the sanctimonious jerk.
‘That could happen, I suppose,’ she agreed, without batting an eyelash. ‘But I am a good accountant, and there are plenty of other jobs. Or I could set up my own business. You obviously haven’t thought this through, because short of following me around for the rest of my life there is nothing much you can do to me. According to you, I committed a crime—but I have served my time and am now a reformed character. So I changed my name by deed poll? That is perfectly legal. And for over six years now I have led a perfectly honest life. Can you say the same? I doubt it,’ she said derisively. ‘As for your threats—they don’t bother me. Thanks to you I grew a thick skin in prison, and I don’t have to do a damn thing you say. But, if it helps, I have no intention of marrying your brother—or any other man for that matter. Now, your two minutes are up. Time to go.’
He rose to his feet. She thought for a moment she had won, and turned towards the door, but a large hand clamped around her upper arm and spun her back to face him.
‘Not so fast,’ Dante declared, uncomfortably aware that the words of her spirited response was true. His investigator’s report had confirmed she had led a blameless life since her release from prison, but it did not make her any less guilty of the crime in his eyes. However, it did make him think again about what he was about to say. He studied her from beneath narrowed lids, noting the slight flush that stained her cheeks and the glitter of anger in her huge green eyes as she glared up at him. He was struck by her bravery in trying to defy him—but not enough to change his mind and let her go. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the growing ache in his groin!
‘This conversation is not over yet, Beth. I didn’t get around to mentioning your good friend Clive Hampton—the lawyer of your old cell mate, I believe.’
Beth stilled. ‘Clive?’ she murmured, and despite her brave words she suddenly felt wary.
‘He is a fine lawyer, known for his charity work and nearing retirement. There are rumours he will receive a decoration in the New Year’s Honours list.’ His eyes watched her. ‘Such a shame if his reputation is destroyed by his friendship with you. Maybe he could even be disbarred by the Law Lords.’
‘No...’ she breathed. ‘You can’t do that. Clive is the most caring, honest man I know. He has never broken a law in his life, I’m sure.’
‘He doesn’t have to break a law. But his close relationship with you could be perceived as bending the law. He collected you from prison, found you a place to live and recommended you to a business acquaintance of his to get you a position with an accountancy firm without revealing your change of name. Then there is Helen Jackson, your cellmate, whose divorce he arranged and whom he later defended unsuccessfully on a murder charge. It was rumoured that Helen was more than just a client to Clive, and with a beautiful woman like you to spice up the story the tabloids will have a field day.’